


A Reunion No One Actually Wanted

by CrunchyPickles



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-11-11 13:52:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11149761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchyPickles/pseuds/CrunchyPickles
Summary: An Alternate Universe where Sherlock and John met in High School, fell out and then dragged to a High School Reunion by their wives





	1. Letters

John stepped into the house with a sigh, “I’m home,” he announced, setting his keys into the bowl on the entryway table before making his way to the kitchen to get something to drink.

“Welcome home, sweetie.” Mary said blandly, eyes focused on the book sitting on the kitchen table. John looked over his shoulder to see what she was looking at before closing the fridge.

“W-what is that?” He asked, feeling dread creep up on him for some reason.

“Your high school year book.” Mary answered, looking over her shoulder with a grin. John inhaled deeply, holding it in, beverage completely forgotten as he rubbed his forehead.

“I don’t have a high school year book.” He croaked out, walking over to the table to stand over his wife’s shoulder.

“I know! Weird isn’t it?” She asked, amused by her husband’s discomfort, “We got it in the mail-"

“I got it in the mail.” John corrected quickly, trying as smoothly as possible to take the book away from the woman.

“You grew into your nose, that’s for sure.”

“Excuse you. By the way, why did I get a year book in the mail?”

“Apparently there’s a reunion in a month.” Mary announced, yanking the book away from him, “And we’re going.” She added decidedly.

“We’re not.” John disagreed, walking away once again to get his beverage he’d abandoned a minute ago, trying turn away from his wife and the subject.

“Oh but we are! I know almost nothing about you before we met and-“

“And you’re one to say!” John interjected with annoyance.

“AND this will be a great opportunity to interrogate your classmates.” Mary explained, feeling rather bubbly as she stood up, holding the yearbook against her side as she moved to get started on supper, adamant on not leaving the object alone with her husband, who seemed displeased by its existence.

“Fine, you can go by yourself.” John said as he sat down with his orange juice.

“Fine, I’ll tell everyone that I’m a hooker you fell madly in love with.” Mary spat back quickly before laughing to herself.

 

* * *

 

 

Irene came into the sitting room, a small basket in her hand, “Come on, darling, mail call.” She announced, standing over the couch. Sherlock was laying across it, an arm fallen to the side and a newspaper covering his head and chest. He groaned from under it, laid there for another second before sitting up, the newspaper falling over his lap and a few pages on the floor. He pushed away the rest of the papers, creating a small mess in front of the couch, neither of them caring, Irene sat down a cushion over and dumped the letters between them, the couple silently sorting them in three piles: notices, letters for Irene and letters for Sherlock. Once all the letters were sorted, Irene looked over to her husband, Sherlock flipped over the envelopes, picking at random, opening it and cleared his throat.

“Dear Mistress, night and day I think of you. The welts have healed but the memory of your strikes sit deep within my skin and comforts me in the quiet nights.” Sherlock read aloud, pausing to shake his head, “How poetic.” He commented, “I long for another evening with you, but my schedule is an even curler mistress than you…” Sherlock trailed off with an exasperated sighed.

“Well, go on.” Irene pushed with a small smirk on her lips, rather delighted, she didn’t care who the sender was, but hearing it read from her husband’s lips was always amusing. Sherlock peered over to his wife and frowned, setting the letter down. Irene got the message and picked up a letter, opening it up, “Dear Mr. Holmes, I don’t have much money, but I hope that you can help me. I believe that my daughter has been kidnapped, despite the police telling me she’s run away-“

“Pass.” Sherlock said simply, looking for another letter to read, most of the return addresses obviously under pseudonyms.

“Really?"

“Really.”

“I think it sounds interesting.”

“Then you take the case, I’ll even let you take the credit.”

“I think not. You love taking the credit, plus I don’t want people thinking I’m a good person.”

“When in fact you’re a bad woman.”

“Precisely.” Irene gave her husband a side glance with a small smile, picking up a small parcel, “Now, I know it’s your turn, but I find this rather intriguing.” She said as she held it to Sherlock. He took the parcel, inspecting it, Irene watched closely as Sherlock took in the details.

“The sender had both the return address and our address printed on a label and the originating address is a P.O. Box with a name I don’t recognize. The tape is generic masking tape.” Sherlock pointed out the obvious, not seeing the intrigue, “There’s an envelope on top of a book. Hardly interesting.” He decided easily, handing the package back to Irene, she took the parcel, opening it regardless of his opinion.

“It’s a high school year book.” She announced, setting the letter between the cover and the first page, Sherlock dropped all the letters in his hands and reached to grab the book, Irene was on her feet in a second, evading the man’s attempt the grab the book.

“Give me that!” He called out, standing as well, creating a bigger mess of papers on the floor, Irene walked around the coffee table.

“So now it’s interesting?” She teased, raising a brow at him, Sherlock covered his eyes with his thumb and middle finger and sighed. Irene walked around the room idly as she browsed through the pages, carefully looking for Sherlock’s picture, the detective decided to distract himself by cleaning up the mess on the floor, putting the letters in the basket and straightened out the newspaper.

“I doubt you’ll find anything of interest…” Sherlock trailed off as he sat down, feeling rather defeated. Irene hummed before finding Sherlock’s old picture.

“You were quite the duckling. Not an ugly duckling, but a duckling nonetheless.” She commented with a smirk, walking behind the couch to hold Sherlock’s cheek, he rolled his eyes with no response. The woman took the envelope and set the year book down on a cushion, reading the letter.

“Judging from the book, we can assume the letter is about a high school reunion.” He commented, taking the book in his hand, Sherlock looked at the faces and recognizing none of them before coming across one picture in particular, his chest throbbing faintly.

“So it is.” Irene commented, unaware of her husband’s mild distress, “Shall we attend?” She suggested, peeking over the letter.

  
“Nope.” Sherlock answered simply

“Why not?”

“Because a high school reunion is nothing but group of people being judged by their by the expectations that have been set back when they were children. It would be a sordid affair.” Sherlock explained in whole with contempt.

”When you explain it that way, we have to go now.” Irene said decidedly, moving around the couch to sit next to him.

“We’re not.”

“Oh sweetie, but we are.”


	2. Name Tags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having your name scribbled on a sticker and placed on your chest is rather.. humiliating

In the taxi ride to the hotel venue, Sherlock was tapping his fingers on his thigh, looking out the window with annoyance, “It’s not too late to turn around, you know. Just around the block and back home, 25 minutes on this route.” He explained, trying his best to not give his wife a single glance. Irene was on the phone, she’d managed to record a few names of the people in the year book, wondering who would  be of use to her before her husband had taken the book and as casually as possible, threw it into the fire place to burn. She placed her hand on his.

“No such luck, sweetie.” She said, not even looking away from the screen, she was anticipating this outing to be at least entertaining, any chance to see Sherlock in mild discomfort was worth the risk.

While John drove the car, he held the wheel in a death grip, his anger had simmered down to annoyance; he tried talking Mary out of going, negotiate with her before they fought, well, it was more him yelling and her laughing him off. “So? What are you thinking about?” Mary asked with a small grin on her face.

“How fast do I have to drive to get into an accident without seriously injury?” He answered honestly.

“Oh stop it.” Mary said with a smile, she knew John was upset, but she hoped that seeing an old face would help him get out of his rut, she was very happy with her life, but she knew John hadn’t been happy with his own as of late. When they made it to the building, the valet taking their car, John and Mary followed the signs leading to the room where the reunion was held, greeted by two cheery women behind a table.

“Names?” A blonde ask, her face open with anticipation, her hands on a clipboard, next to her was a brunette with a piece of paper and marker.

“Watson, John and Mary.” Mary answered with a smile, noticing both the ladies wore badges that said ‘Reunion Committee’, the blonde searched for the names while the brunette started scratching their names down.

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Watson.” The blonde chirped.

“Dr. and Mrs.” Mary corrected, beaming with pride, placing her hand on John’s shoulder, John on the other hand was rather distracted by the brunette, holding out a piece of paper.

“What is that?” He asked, knowing full well what it was.

“Name tags, everyone is wearing them.”

“Uh, no thank you.” He held up his hand in a stop signal. Mary was placing her name tag on her chest, taking John’s.

“Too bad.” Mary sang, slapping it on his chest and pushed him away from the table, “Thank you.” She said to the ladies, looking back, “Come on, let’s have a drink and mingle.” Mary suggested, taking John to the bar.

Sherlock and Irene arrived at the venue, following the signs, walking through the door, Sherlock looked at his wife, “Now, we’re here, we see people so now we can leave.” He turned slightly and held his hand towards the door, Irene smiled up at him, turning him around towards the table.

“Don’t be a spoil sport, I want to see you at least a tiny bit humiliated, you never let me do that.” She spoke, not minding the two ladies being a witness to them. She turned to the blonde, “Sherlock Holmes and plus one.” Irene announced, the blonde started looking through her list, Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes.

“William Holmes.” He corrected with mild disdain, Irene narrowed her eyes at her husband, “Official documentations say William.” He answered her questioning expression, looking slightly upwards.

“Sherlock, I think I remember you!” The blonde said, smiling up at him, her eyes completely glued on Irene. The brunette held up the sticker for his name tag.

“No thank you.” Sherlock looked at her committee badge and name tag, “Chelsea.” He read, she gave him a stern look, setting it down and waited for Irene to announce herself.

“Irene Holmes.” Irene spoke, watching Chelsea write and held out the name tag, she stuck it on the bottom end of her cocktail dress, right on her thigh, taking Sherlock’s name tag.

“No.” Sherlock hissed, trying to step away from his wife.

“Yes.” Irene grinned, slapping it on his chest. One the other side of the table, the blonde was on her phone, texting with vigour. Sherlock sighed as he closed his eyes for a moment, hand hovering over his tag.

“Come on, William.” Irene teased, corralling him away from the table.

“Oh, stop that. You knew very well that William is my given name.” Sherlock said with annoyance.

“I do, but I think it’s another thing entirely for you to say it.” She replied, realizing they were going by the area closest to the alternate entry. "The blonde, Macy, was texting quite enthusiastically, should I be concerned?”

“You would likely be entertained than concerned, I’m the one that’s concerned.”

"If we're going to stand around looking pretty, get me a drink." Irene looked up at him. Sherlock inhaled hard with annoyance, going through the edges of the crowd, turning his head away, hoping that no one would spot him.

John was holding a glass of beer, having already taken a shot of whiskey, Mary holding a cocktail as they stood facing the crowd, there was one woman who shook John’s hand before she got her drink, but he was glad she didn’t make any small talk. A man came over, slightly taller than John, on the stout side, short hair with a big grin.

“John Watson! As I live and breathe.” He said as he held out his hand to shake, John did take his hand, taking a moment to recall this man with a squinted of his eyes.

“Ronald Ginger?” John asked, laughing nervously, “Ronny.” He turned to Mary, letting go of his hand, “Mary, this is Ronny, Ronny, my wife Mary. We were in the rugby team.” John explained as they shook hands.

“Well, obviously I don’t play rugby anymore!” Ronny exclaimed with laughter, happy to shake her hand, but he paused, looking to John. “Your wife?” He repeated, letting go to look up Mary up and down, “Are you shitting me?” Ron looked back at John, who cleared his throat.

“No, I am not shitting you, three years now.” He explained, feeling like the pit of his stomach was going sour. In the background, Sherlock had heard the whole interaction, making sure his head was turned away from the trio, taking his glasses of cocktails and practically ran before anyone said anything. Mary sipped her drink, looking to her husband then to Ron.

“Why is this surprising?” She asked smiling as she wanted in on the shock. Ronald and John were having a stare off with each other, then Ron laughed as he averted his eyes from the other man.

“Oh, well. John here was so serious, thought he’d scare off all the women.” Ron explained, “Well, better be off,” He said rather abruptly, going by John to get to the bar. Mary watched him go for a moment, she knew Ronald was lying, but she wanted to know what they were hiding.

“What was that all about?” She asked, looking to John, he decided not to answer, hiding behind his cup as he took a large gulp.

Sherlock and Irene were sipping, he stared off into the distance, trying to go somewhere else in his mind while Irene scanned the room diligently, trying to make her own deductions about the other attendees. There was a tall, thin woman, looking wide eyed and smiling.

"So it is true, the infamous Sherlock Holmes gracing us with his presence.” She started looking the both of them up and down. Sherlock did the same to her, easily catching more than she ever could.

“Julia." He read her name tag, "and you are?” He asked, Sherlock deduced she was a married mother of two, had one cat and lived locally, but none of the information indicated familiarity.

“Of course you wouldn’t remember the little people.” She rolled her eyes, Irene stood back with intrigue, glad to see she didn’t have to do much leg work. “I was John Watson’s girlfriend in year 11 for six months.” She tried to remind, Sherlock’s gaze went off, his mind wandered off trying to remember that year and inhaled sharply.

“Right, good to see you, Julia.” He said, smiling as he tried to plan a way to get her away from Irene, “Did you know that Howard Frasier fancied you?” Sherlock pointed out, Irene looked at her husband with annoyance, Julia was just getting somewhere and Irene didn’t get the chance to record the name ‘John Watson’.

“Right, yeah. I should hope so seeing as we’re married now.” Julia answered, Irene turned slightly to thee side, rather disinterested now, it seemed Sherlock’s decision to redirect things was effortless.

“Kids?”

“Two. A boy and a girl.”

“Ah, so one of each.”

“Exactly, it was exactly what Howard and I planned.” Julia beamed, Sherlock had only been half present, trying to dig deep inside.

“Do you know who this would kill?”

“Kill?”

“Sarah Dwire.”

“Oh! Sarah Dwire! Where is she by the way?” Julia asked looking around and spotted the woman, “Well, it was nice seeing you and...” She paused looking at Irene.

“Irene.” Sherlock finished, Julia simply smiled before walking off to find Dwire.

“That was much too easy for you.” Irene said as she looked to Sherlock, “It’s like she didn’t want to know that I’m your wife.” She said before sipping her drink.

“No. It was much easier to wallow in petty feuds.”

“Speaking of petty feuds. Who’s John Watson? You made quite the face when she mentioned him.” Irene asked, studying his face, she could see the detective’s eye betray him as he went off in the distance for a moment.

“No one.”

“Someone then.”

“Someone….”


	3. Tension

"You haven't answered my question." Mary stated, still looking at John, who kept his eyes straight ahead.

“Well, that was my intention.” He replied, turning his head slightly, eyes still averted. Mary made a sound of exasperation.

“I’ll be more upset if I find out the truth from someone else, you know.”

“I think I will too, now that you mention it.”

"Why was Ronny confused about you being married?”

“I was an angry teenager?”

“Everyone was an angry teenager.” Mary said before taking a drink, she was hoping that John would find someone stimulating in his past, but now both of them were annoyed. On the left of them, there was Macy, the blond Reunion Committee member coming onto the stage, all smiles.

“Good evening, everybody. Thank you for coming to the ten year high school reunion of 2007.” Macy started, “Now that everyone that RSVPed is accounted for, I’d like to announce that there will be an update of the high school year book. That means that everyone has to meet everyone at least once to vote for ‘Best dressed’, ‘Best smile’, ‘Most successful’ and so on.” She elaborated, she could see there were vague expressions of confusion, but ignored it, “Happy voting!” Macy ended, Chelsea started the clapping as Macy walked off.

“Oh, why don’t they just kill us all now? The process would be much faster.” Sherlock said with disdain, now it was guaranteed that they’ll run into someone unsavoury.

“You’re right, it will be downright excruciating.” Irene grinned up to her husband, there was no hiding now. “Look at this way, it will be very easy to win ‘Best dressed.” She looked among the crowd, “Very easy.”

After the announcement, the room started to move like currents, people putting more effort to taking a good look at each other, it was easy to see it was a matter of who they would win against rather than see who the winners would be. Some having a hard time hiding it with their grins and looking at their partners as they walked away from each other.

Sherlock shook a hand or two, being recognized from the news rather than high school. There was a rather pudgy hand held out this time, it was distractingly soft and smooth, the hand belongs to a rather stout woman with long black hair and too much eyeliner.

“You know I couldn't believe it when Macy told me that Sherlock Holmes was here.” She spoke, grinning, “But here you are, lookin’ rather fit compared to high school.” She added, Sherlock looked to her name tag that was slightly obscured by her hair. Kristen. The name repeated in his head a few times before the image of two girls, a blond and a brunette, that hung out with the rugby team an awful lot. Slight discomfort crept up on him while Irene stood there, trying not to disturb the atmosphere, seeing very easily that her husband was now having a hard time.

“Well, this is my wife, Irene.” Sherlock said with an expressionless face, directing her attention to Irene, trying his best to emphasize her presence. The woman looked up at him with a strained eye for a moment, Kristen gasping as she looked at Irene, quickly shaking her hand.

“Did you say wife?” Kristen said, looking at her up and down and clenched her jaw.

“I did, three years now.” Sherlock looked to Irene with a grin, thinking he successfully misdirected another nosy person. 

"Three years.” Kristen echoed, stepping back to look between the two. 

"So what was Sherlock like in high school?” Irene tried to redirect, feeling Sherlock’s hand on her back, she knew he wasn’t trying t put on airs, it was a silent warning.

“Mouthy mainly. I was never on with him though, he was with…” She trailed off, “Oh! You know who would be surprised to see you here?”

“I wouldn’t!” Sherlock tried to cut off her train of thought

“Come with me, I know exactly who you should meet.” Kristen said, looking to Irene. 

“Lead the way.” Irene said with a grin, grabbing Sherlock’s hand.

“Everyone’s surprised, I was surprised.” Sherlock tried to distract.

“Paul. Paul!” Kristen said as she went through the crowd, Sherlock caught eyes of other looking at the three of them, dread taking him completely, he remembered Paul, he remembered he didn’t like Paul. The man turned around, Sherlock tried to keep a straight face, Paul was still much the same height, but had gained weight like Kristen, if not a little more, ten pounds more. 

“Now, who the hell is this?” Paul asked rhetorically, looking at the pair and recognizing Sherlock almost instantly.

“Hello Hunter.” He greeted flatly.

“Hello Holmes.” Paul said, shaking his hand.

“Paul, this is Mrs. Holmes!” Kristen said with glee directing his attention to Irene.

“Missus Holmes?” Paul repeated, looking at Irene.

“Well, I do have a given name, Irene.” She introduced herself, “I take it you’re familiar with my husband?” Directly behind Paul was another couple he had been chatting with, John and Mary almost dwarfed by the man.

“Do you know them?” Mary asked, trying to lean to the side of the large man, only catching a glimpse of Irene.

“No. Nope.” John answered, it felt like his heart was going to cave in his chest as he heard a familiar voice.

“So, you do.” Mary decided.

“Excuse me, did you say Holmes?” Mary piped up, she had a clouded idea of that name, but she wasn’t sure where. Paul turned to the side and stepped back, looking to the two, eyes moving from Mary to Irene.

John was trying to control his breathing as he looked at the pair, well, not so much Irene as it was Sherlock, he felt like he was drowning in ice water in his place. Sherlock was returning the stare, his feet were rooted where he stood, and he thought he wanted to be sad. It would have be a nice feeling to have, sadness, but gathering that John was a doctor, married with a child, what he mostly felt was relief and a vague hint of envy.

“Yes, he did say Holmes.” Sherlock spoke, eyes going to Mary and gave her a slight nod, “Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective.” He introduced himself, gathering an idea of the woman as their hands touched. 

"Oh, the Sherlock Holmes." Mary nodded, “I saw you on the telly.” She commented. “So, you seem to know Hunter, would my husband, John Watson be a mutual?” She asked, looking between the two men. John suddenly felt trapped, clenching his as he tried to avoid eye contact.

“Yeah, Yeah. We were friends in high school.” John answered, looking up to Sherlock with a sense of challenge in his eyes. Sherlock read his body language just fine and nodded. 

“Well, this is awkward.” Paul said, taking Kristen’s hand and leaving as quickly as they could.

“Acquaintances, really.” John looked to Mary with a small smile.

“I think that would be sweet, reuniting with an old friend.” Irene piped up, “If that were true.” She said, looking to Mary, the blond smiled, looking again and part of her was starting to get it.

“So not friends?” She asked, looking to John instead.

"Acquaintances.” John parroted Sherlock with a weak smile.

“Lovers.” Irene said with a slight raise of her brows.

“What?” Mary said to Irene then to John, “No.” She was caught off guard, but there was a smile twitching on her lips

“No.” John said to Mary, then looked to Irene with a glare, “No.” He repeated.

“Of course you two were, Sherlock looks at you like he looks at me.” She said, looking to her husband, who's been looking at other people, trying to disappear in his mind, he promised not to say a word and he wouldn’t.

“Okay, yeah. We're done here.” John decided, taking Mary's hand, he didn’t have to listen to this. Mary grounded herself, yanking him back.

“Hold on, hold on.” She said, using her other hand to pat her husband’s hand, “Did you really date in high school? I don’t mind if you say yes. I just want to know.” Mary said, looking to Sherlock who was rather interested in imagining he was back in his lab.

“What? I’m not gay.” He stated, “Why would you believe a complete stranger over me? Your husband.” John asked, pulling his hand away, looking to Sherlock with a glare. “Why are you here?” He asked, Sherlock blinked and met his eyes.

“I didn’t want to be here.” He defended himself, more or less.

“Right.” John said sharply, turning from the three of them and walked way. Mary was rather struck in place, watching her husband walk away. Irene was smiling, this was far more interesting than she expected.

“So, were you two boyfriends?” Mary asked, looking to Sherlock with slightly raised brows, Sherlock met eyes with her, clenching his jaw slightly.

“Yes, briefly. Very briefly.” He answered honestly, he knew he couldn’t hide from Irene at this point.

“And this is your wife?” Mary asked, looking to the woman.

“Yes, Irene. Three years next month.” Irene introduced herself, not making a move to shake hands.

“Mary. Married four, we have a daughter.” Mary smiled, rather proud. She cleared her throat, stepped closer to Sherlock, “So, Holmes. John has never mentioned you before-“

“Understandably.” 

“-But can you go talk to him?”

“No.”

“Please? I brought him here because he’s been… bored quite frankly and I think seeing a familiar face would be nice.”

“Send Paul, they were rugby mates.”

“I think it has to be you.” Mary ignored the interruption.

“Well, I think that’s what these two have in common. Sherlock has been especially sulky as of late.” Irene pointed out, “Come on, sweetie, go talk to your sweetheart.” She placed her hand at his back, Sherlock let out a sigh of exasperation, there was no escaping the woman he lived with now.

“If I get punched, I’m not exactly holding John accountable.” He said before walking off. 

After some directions from the valet and playing Marko Polo with the key FOB, John was sitting in his car, holding the wheel in a firm grip, staring out into nothing as he debated just driving off and leave Mary to fend for herself. She deserved it, of course, bringing him here and dragging Sherlock into the picture, it would be justified. How dare Sherlock just appear into his life like that? John was happy and the stupid man ruined it. The passenger door opened and John felt a small shift before the door shut.

“Great, you finally came to your senses.” John said, turning his head only to be stunned, the person being in the passenger seat was of course Sherlock, “Get out.”

“I can’t.” Sherlock said before sighing, “I can, of course, but figuratively I can’t. Your wife sent me.” 

“Well, I’m sending you back. Get out.” John said, glaring to Sherlock as he kept a tighter grip on the wheel.

“You’re looking well.”

“Of course I look well. I’m happily married with a daughter, thank you very much.”

“Mm, not entirely.”

“Yes, I am. Very happy.”

“Not according to your wife.”

“Mary. My wife’s name is Mary.”

“My wife’s name is Irene.”

"Why are you here?”

“I’m not sure, really. Mary sent me here, she says you’re bored and quite frankly I don’t know what to do with that information.” At this point, Sherlock was sitting in the passenger’s seat, taking a moment to adjust the sea to push it back.

“You can get out of my car.”

“I will.” Sherlock nodded, clasping his hands, “In fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, I think it’s long enough for our wives to think we’ve been chatting.” Sherlock said as he closed his eyes, John snorted, it seemed they married similar women. John turned on the radio and sat back, placing his hands on his thighs, tapping his fingers on his knees.

“So what does my wife say?” John couldn’t help but ask.

“Bored. You’re bored.”

“Bored? I’m not bored.” John said as he stared at his hands, “If anything, she’s the one that’s bored, deciding to torture me like this.”

“She isn’t though.”

“Then she’s just being a prick.” John stated, which earned a small laugh from Sherlock

“Mary is… Happy. Happily married.”

“Well, she better be.”

“Is it really torture for us to meet again?” Sherlock asked, feeling like he should escape the car with how pathetic that just sounded. John inhaled as he closed his eyes, feeling a tinge of guilt.

“It is a little bit, yeah.” He admitted, tapping his fingers again, “I feel like my past is looking at me in the face.”

“Hardly, I’m quite interested in that hedge across the way.”

“You know what I mean.” John said with annoyance, feeling like Sherlock hadn’t changed much, “We broke things-“

“You broke things.”

"Fine, I broke things off because it didn’t make sense to drag things along longer than they needed to be.”

"Oh please, at least give me the courtesy to say you were afraid to admit you were gay.”

“I’m not gay!” John hissed out, punching the console with the side of his fist.

“Whatever, bisexual.”

"Please get out of my car."

“10 more minutes.”

John sighed with exasperation, rubbing his eyes as he tried to calm down. “So why are you here? You hated everyone n high school.” He asked, out of everyone that attended the whole reunion, Sherlock seemed the least likely to attend.

“Not everyone.” Sherlock stole a glance at John for a moment, taking in the other man’s profile to memory. “Unlike Mary, my wife legitimately wants to torture me.”

“Married a sadist?”

“Dominatrix.” Sherlock corrected, which only made John even more confused, “She’s rather talented in blackmail and tried to use me as leverage when we first met.”

“As all good marriages start out.”

“She’s quite miffed that I’m a little harder to move compared to others so she thought the reunion would ruffle my feathers.” 

“I think Mary had the same goal. I’m sure she’ll be glad knowing mine a fully displaced.”

They sat in silence for the remainder of Sherlock’s stay, John avoided asking more questions mainly because he kept a mantra in his mind that whatever connection they had was severed a long time ago and picking at old wounds would make the scar bigger.

“I’m glad you’re doing well, John.” Sherlock said before exiting the car, John didn’t have time to reply as the door slammed shut a moment after. Irene was standing by the window, Mary stood next to her, watching Sherlock exit the car.

"Well, here's hoping." Mary said, finishing the rest of her drink, crossing paths with the detective as she went back to their car, Sherlock stood over Irene looking even more annoyed than when he came.

“Are you quite satisfied?” He asked rather bitingly, Irene looked at him up and down and shrugged.

“Perhaps.”

“Wonderful, shall we head out?”

**Author's Note:**

> Canon Sherlock already goes through John's belongings, it would only make sense if he looks through his wife's belongings, Irene does as well so they make it their hobby to read their mail to each other.
> 
> I am also looking for a beta reader, you can find me at http://crunchy-pickles.tumblr.com


End file.
